This is a daily journal of some of my thoughts during the first ten days of Hurricane Helene. You are reading this after the rain has long since ended and the lights finally came back on. Although I shortened many of the entries (you’re welcome), it has only been edited for grammar and spelling, and even some of that may still be questionable.
I do not usually keep a journal on a “device,” for I prefer the feel of a beautiful paper journal and a fountain pen. But for whatever reason, I picked up this machine, with precious little battery and all, and was compelled to type something (most) days during this epic adventure called Helene.
My thoughts showed up as a seemingly never-ending blog post (for both of us) part absolute blither, part something else. There was really nothing to share but time. The time for doing nothing but to feel all the emotions. It was exhausting.
I guess I felt that by typing it, no matter how personal or ridiculously silly it was, it clearly wanted to be shared.
Is this all fun to read? Well, probably not.
Is it boring? Well, hell yeah, You should have been there. Haha
Will other parts be entertaining or at least mildly amusing? I have no idea. I hope so… for your benefit.
So, Here you go.
***
Thursday September 26, 2024
Day: 1 (Without power, water, and phone service)
I had spent the whole morning cooking several dishes to dehydrate overnight, not even thinking about the power possibly going out. I have been so thrilled to make trail meals in my new dehydrator that needing electricity for at least 10 hours was a vast oversight.
When it finally dawned on me, it was much too late. The power flickered in the afternoon several times and finally went out when I had 4 hours left on the timer. (If I had rehydrated them in the first day or two they would have been fine. Ahhh… but alas, I did not.)
It has already been raining for days, but because I have no TV or internet, and watch no “news,” I really had no idea something of this magnitude was coming… and what little interaction I do have online these days didn’t mention anything to my knowledge about a potential disaster such as this. I never received an evacuation order or any other notification. I am not blaming anyone, however, in hindsight it seems surprising after knowing later what actually happened.
I was much more concerned about my dad who lives on the panhandle of FL. (He sustained no damage, by the way… THIS time.)
***
How long will this last?
Shit! Do I have enough water?
Is anyone out there? What’s happening out there?
I’m already tired of backpacking food.
Why oh why didn’t I do that last load of laundry?!?
After the rain finally ended, I took a walk up the road to survey the damage. I was crawling over and under tangled trees for over a mile of gravel roadway. I didn’t even make it to the first of several places where the road had completely washed away.
It was exhausting.
***
Day 2:
I did something scary today. I learned how to use a chainsaw. Hurricane Helene was quite violent in our neighborhood and took many trees down and even completely washed the road away in a few places.
I had held a chainsaw only once before and had gotten it pinched so remarkably that the task was taken away from me and never returned.
Well, not today.
I was told I wielded that chainsaw like I had been using it all my life. I had been utterly intimidated by that loud and dangerous thing! But seeing as how I have lived up here only three months and have had multiple trees fall across the road, I have decided to up my wild mountain woman game. Using the chainsaw was exhilarating and fulfilling. Watching the cut limbs fall away from a giant heap of a mess in the middle of the road created a wonderful sense of accomplishment.
I have to admit, I might have even let a Wahoooo! escape a time or two.
***
As I write this, I have been off trail for five days. I should have been in the woods for three days already.
I am surviving all the same, with no running water, no electricity, no phone, no electric kettle… only shelter and the warmth of my actual bed.
But it’s different when you’re backpacking with no cell service or electricity or the comforts of home. You’re prepared for …and expecting… those conditions in the woods.
At home, you feel the loss immensely when the phone doesn’t work and the lights don’t come on at the push of a button. Using my backpacking stove on my front porch should feel easy and natural, but I feel the loss of my range top, fridge,and kitchen sink deeply.
In fact, I come home just to specifically UTILIZE these creature comforts. lol
When I am using my backpacking stove, I should be in the woods… far, far away from a kitchen sink… preparing a simple meal for my next day’s walk…
I miss the trail, so.
It is liberating and frustrating.
It is empowering and yet demotivating…
I can feel the low barometric pressure in every cell and it has no other choice than to depress me deeply.
***
I feel bored for what feels like the first time in my life. And yet a week ago, I could have listed at least a hundred creative projects I wished I had the time to work on but…
I wish to do none.
I am surviving.
That is the best I can do.
I am “supposed” to be on trail.
But I am sitting here instead.
I accept this but it feels hard to do so.
***
Day 3: Too uninspired to write.
***
Day 4:
I am able to check messages at my closest neighbors house briefly. I get some updates about what is happening in our area from a few people. All are beyond shocking.
I don’t have time to reply to the many messages that come in when my phone finally connects to a brief bit of wifi. It is reassuring and yet totally overwhelming.
I feel completely incommunicado.
***
I slowly begin to accept the fact that I have no control. Whatsoever.
I have nothing urgent to do.
Dirty laundry spills over the basket’s edge mocking me…
Surrender comes easier at some times than others.
***
I take walks to go look at the carnage and also to admire the handiwork of my and my neighbors efforts. It has been raining most days after the storm, not hard, but enough to make it feel cold and gloomy.
Well, gloomier.
I feel content inside, but there is so much going on here that my state of being is rattled to the core. Sure there are tons of tasks I could probably do – with my headlamp or candles- but I don’t want to.
Today I want to hide under my covers for hours on end.
But I wouldn’t dare!
Sleep in the middle of the day???
Somewhere in my childhood I learned that meant you were lazy or something.
Well, I finally said to hell with that stupidity and curled up under my fuzzy blanket and had myself a good nap.
Is that what this storm is teaching me? It’s ok to feel lazy? It’s really ok for me to do nothing at all? Is it actually ok, gasp, that I take a fucking nap???
***
Day 5: I have no idea what happened on Day 5… it has long been forgotten… and clearly it was nothing worth writing down.
…But one thing I do know is that I have repeated thoughts… daily… about just packing up my backpack and walking the seven miles to the AT, parking, and just walking until all the complicated urban living stuff gets sorted out. I am better equipped for this type of living on a trail. If the weather wasn’t still so frightfully unpalatable, I am pretty sure THAT would be where you could find me…
***
Day 6:
I meditated even longer today. I felt the rhythm of peace in my daily rituals of yoga, meditation, breathwork, and chanting.
It must be working.
Ha! Duly noted…
My camp-stove coffee is getting better.
I made myself polenta with sundried tomatoes and ate it right out of my mother’s old Revereware pot.
I went for a walk that turned in to a failed mission and a rainy cold mad dash home.
I’m tired of walking in rain. Hell, I usually get paid for that.
I took a nap.
When I opened my eyes I could see a little sunshine shimmering on leaves outside and I hopped up and put a chair right in that ray of sunshine.
It felt so good for all of the 42 seconds it was shining on me.
Now, it is soggy again and I am going to go whip up a kale dish. My neighbor gifted me some beautiful kale leaves and now I am on a new mission…
***
Day 7:
This morning while drinking my coffee, I heard a rustling down below the deck and peeked over the side just in time to see a medium sized black bear dislodge my recently stacked pile of firewood. He was crawling up the side when it gave way and sent him tumbling to the ground. He looked up at me for a moment like he was embarrassed. I have seen him several times in the past few weeks. He is very chonky and has fur as black as the night.
***
That Kale dish totally rocked, by the way. I stir-fried it with onion and a long-thawed out veggie sausage patty. I’ve taken them on week-long backpacking trips so , I thought, what the heck!?
I lived.
Dinner was awesome. I am remembering how much I like making food on my old car camping stove. It tastes different when you cook outdoors, even on a propane stove, feeling the weight of a mad world on your shoulders.
***
Hurray!! Our road was finally cleared of the downed power lines and repaired well enough to allow passage to Waynesville to buy gas for my neighbor’s generator. Even though we only drove a fairly short ways, I could hardly believe my eyes. The extensiveness of the damage is shocking and the loss of life even more so. It is heartbreaking.
There were lines at the gas stations and most stores only accepted cash. Of course, the grocery store shelves were empty of anything you probably went there to purchase. The produce was sad and wilty, and I walked out with surprisingly little. We had gone there to buy food for another neighbor. Knowing I didn’t have a refrigerator or a proper way to cook anything inspiring or even half interesting, my purchases were few and boring at best.
***
Being without these “usual things” day after day turns into a new life itself. As almost always when living in survival mode, life’s most basic needs tend to arise first. How we do this reflects our level of self care at the time. I don’t know about you, but survival mode hasn’t always brought out my most nurturing self-care in extreme times. It took several days for me to recognize where my needs were not being met well.
Day 8:
Reflecting on the events that have occurred recently, I continuously come back to how grateful I am. It became immediately obvious that I have the most amazing neighbors. Everyone did their thing like a finely tuned machine. Most everyone donned a chainsaw and went right to work clearing everyone’s blowdowns after the rain first stopped. I got to practice enough to where I felt comfortable using it. That felt like a genuine gift.
Two of my neighbors took their heavy equipment out there and fixed the road where much of it was just missing or had deep ruts and drop offs along the edge. What a blessing these two brought to their community… the road is better than ever.
My closest neighbor has fed me countless hot delicious meals – much of it from her garden, fresh hot coffee, endless refills of water jugs from her spring-fed water, and access to satellite internet to send a few emergency messages. I have felt so loved and supported by my community. I absolutely love my little cabin in the woods on top of a mountain.
My neighbors have become dear friends. I am so grateful.
***
All I know now,
here,
on Day 8,
is I know nothing.
I have been on the strangest backpacking trip I could have ever imagined.
I am camped at a fancy shelter, 4100’ in elevation, 7 miles off the trail.
I am “prepared” beyond measure… with plenty of stove fuel, backpacking meals, and all the necessary gear to wander off for days. Yet nothing could have prepared me for this.
Even as I write this, I still have had little exposure to the horrific mayhem that remains of the southeast. It is hard to imagine the devastation that must have occurred in such a massive area. I have seen only a handful of still photos that friends have sent. Being ok with not knowing what is happening has been an interesting and often elusive endeavor.
Communication is essential. Without it life is infinitely more difficult. More than a tool, it is the whole expression of our thoughts and emotions in relationship with another person… any other person.
We find out how vital that tool is when it is abruptly taken away.
Not being able to communicate in any form with others has been, by far, the hardest part to bear.
The gift of this aspect of the experience has been more difficult to understand.
I spend most of my life alone and never feel lonely. Today, I feel isolated and alone.
Day 9:
I got a teensy tiny blip of cell service for the first time late yesterday afternoon!!
I spent much of the evening trying (sometimes repeatedly) to send a few “I’m not dead” messages to loved ones. This turns into a delicate chore, as my battery pack is slowly dwindling. I feel like I should preserve as much battery power as I can.
Today, that little bar of service changed back to “NO SERVICE,” or occasionally “SOS,” and then shows up again like cruel game. I usually give up and turn it off.
So, I am sitting here on the porch watching it rain.
Some more.
***
Day 10:
Like magic, my telephone rings.
That is the first time I have heard my phone ring in so long it startles the absolute crap out of me, causing me to spill my camp-stove-on-the-front-porch hot chocolate all over me.
Then, I realize I don’t care because I haven’t had a proper shower in 12 days anyway and decide to answer the phone… (even though I know better than to actually answer an unknown caller… but we are in a natural disaster, so I figured, what the hell?)
I’ll be damned if it wasn’t somebody calling me about an extended warranty for the car I just bought.
You have got to be kidding me!?
You just can’t make this shit up. The audacity and hilarity leave me feeling truly angry with a side order of uncontrollable maniacal laughter.
I’m better now.
***
The chonky black bear came back… but I meet him on the edge with loud clapping and yelling which sends him scurrying back up the hill. The yelling felt good. I keep yelling even though he is long gone.
I seem to be calling him Bozo. He doesn’t seem to mind.
***
I am so infinitely blessed.
I have had a lot of time to think about the experience I am having and my daily reaction/response to it. I have had moments of profound happiness …and also that of deep grief. I am doing my best to embrace the unknowingness of what is happening “out there” vs. what is happening within. I am reminded regularly of my total lack of control of anything but my thoughts about it all.
I accept.
For the moment, at least.
****
So many have suffered and are suffering…
I send out my infinite love and support. May all these experiences bring us closer together and show us the value of our community.
I see you… the helpers. You are the light.
I am so grateful.
